


i feel it in my bones

by Sylv



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Multi, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylv/pseuds/Sylv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lifts his eyebrows at her. “Are you really that far gone?”</p><p>Allison considers for a moment. “It seems I can still walk in these heels, so I’m definitely not where I should be. Come on, you’ve got to congratulate the drunk hosts.”</p><p>[Scott and Stiles throw a joint bachelor party in Lydia's Boston apartment. Allison and Derek end up picking up right where they left off.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	i feel it in my bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharacterDevelopment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharacterDevelopment/gifts).



> Inspired by this post: http://tinyurl.com/lnjyddz on tumblr.

Scott and Stiles are having a joint bachelor party because they announced that there was no way they were partying without each other; the first time they ever got drunk was together and they’re going to get smashed together tonight before they have to try and be the sober ones at their wedding.

So everyone will be packing into Lydia’s new home that she got as a present to herself for tenure, one because it’s big enough to fit everyone and allow them to stay the night, two because there are sure to be certain illegal activities going on that a landlord wouldn’t approve of, and three because she happens to live twenty minutes away from Scott and Stiles’ apartment.

Allison flew out from the west coast at the insistence of the boys, even as she protested that it was a ways to go just to stay for one night. Lydia had generously offered the guest room for as long as she needed to stay, but Allison was forced to decline; she was taking a group through Yosemite the very next Monday, and couldn’t afford to miss it.

That means that Allison steps off of her plane into Logan Airport with less than twenty-four hours until she needs to board her flight back to California. She hoists her bag over her shoulder and grabs a cab, the driver of which manages to make great time by ignoring lanes and traffic signals.

Lydia greets her at the door with a hug and a smile, just as well dressed and put together as she always has been. She grabs Allison’s hand and drags her through the rooms; they're sleek and modern, impeccable, and Allison couldn’t imagine it any other way. Her eyes are drawn to a large and clunky photo booth in the corner of the room that must have been rented for the evening.

“Come on, come on, you’ll have a chance to be impressed with my interior decorating skills in a minute. I have something that you need to try on before everyone else gets here.”

They get to Lydia’s room upstairs, and Allison walks slowly along the wall, taking in the pictures from high school, the college degree, the framed articles. There’s a picture of their high school gang that Allison remembers Lydia’s mom taking senior year, and one that must be of the first class she taught at MIT.

“Here it is.”

Allison turns around to see Lydia brandishing a beautiful a green and brown dress that looks to be made of silk, with buttons from the waist up to the collar. It looks more expensive than everything in Allison’s closet combined.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know,” Lydia’s grin is smug. “It’s a prototype, obviously, but I thought what better way to test it out than have you wear it? You can tell me what you think and I’ll have time to alter the design if need be.”

“You want me to wear that? Where? I'm not going to any red carpet events this week.” Allison can’t help but move forward and feel the dress. It slides through her fingers, and she aches with the want to put it on.

“Wear it tonight, Allison, don’t be obtuse. I designed it with you in mind, but I still can’t let you wear it out. I do have a few people to answer to.”

“Oh Lydia, I couldn’t…”

“I know that you want me to convince you, so let’s just skip that part and have you try it on.”

Lydia pushes her into the attached bathroom. Allison lifts the dress reverently and holds it up to her body, pressing the sleeves against her shoulders. She shouldn’t be as surprised as she is; Lydia calls once every few months to make sure that the measurements she has are still accurate.

The dress fits snugly against her curves when she puts it on, hugging her waist and falling to mid-thigh. She spends a minute or so staring at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the fabric like it might disappear if she doesn’t keep touching it. It takes Lydia banging on the door impatiently for her to be brought back from her daze, and she emerges.

Lydia smiles, walking around her and examining every inch of the dress. “It fits just like I hoped it would. You look amazing, Allison.” There are a few experimental tugs at the hems, but she steps back quickly. “Perfect. Now we have to get you some shoes to match. I know you’re going to love these.”

An hour later Allison is walking around the rest of the place in heels that make her heart race, Lydia having done her hair and make up despite her insistences that she is an adult and has managed thus far. She feels like a model from a magazine, too glamorous, and catches herself still patting the dress every once in a while.

Lydia looks no less stunning, four-inch heels sparkling on her feet, a cream-colored dress contrasting nicely with her hair. They end up in the kitchen, sipping on glasses of white wine and trading stories; Allison is much more interested learning about Lydia’s research, even if she doesn’t understand the majority of it, but Lydia keeps pressing her for details of her life as a guide. She has always said that she doesn’t mind nature as long as she doesn’t have to be in it.

They’re just setting out the contents of the liquor cabinet when there are a few sharp raps on the door accompanied by laughter, and Lydia smiles. “That must be the husbands-to-be.”

She is correct, Allison finds, when she is tackled from behind in a hug. She cranes her neck so that she can see over her shoulder straight into the eyes of a smiling Stiles. He allows her to twist in his grip and gives her a proper hug, cradling the back of her head, she burying her nose at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“I don’t like you on the other side of the country,” Stiles says when they let go of each other. “You don’t even have time to Skype, trekking through the wilderness all the time.”

“How did you like the Christmas present we sent you?” asks Scott across the room. His arm is wrapped around Lydia’s shoulders, tugging her back against his side as she tries to pull away to finish lining up the bottles on the counter.

“Scott, I see you every other week, you can let go now,” Lydia admonishes.

“I loved them! Good hiking boots are hard to find. I hope you guys didn’t spend too much money on them,” Allison responds, giving Scott a hug of his own so that Lydia can escape.

“You’d never know you needed them, seeing how you’re dressed right now.” Scott’s eyes sweep over her, and Allison grins.

“Lydia insisted.”

“Well, what’s the point of me having my own fashion line if I can’t treat my friends?”

The four of them settle in at the table for a quick dinner of pasta that Allison whipped up in the kitchen, and work hard on finishing the open bottle of wine before everyone else shows up.

“So,” Allison says as they begin to lean back in their chairs, swirling her glass, feeling pleasantly relaxed. “Three weeks until the big day, is it?”

“Twenty-three days,” Stiles corrects her, swallowing his last bit of wine and pouring himself another glass. “And still way too much to do. We’ve been going a little crazy.”

Scott leans over and grabs Stiles’ hand, squeezing it. “You’ve been going a little crazy. If it wasn’t for me I’m pretty sure you’d have melted into a puddle of anxieties by now.”

“Oh, so that’s why I keep you around.”

The four of them share a chuckle. Stiles presses a soft kiss to Scott’s lips, but soon pulls away with a groan and glances over at the clock, which tells them that people should start arriving in half an hour. “We brought a few things for the party tonight. Not that I doubt your party planning skills, Lydia.”

“Considering it was me who planned almost the entire reception, I should hope not.”

Allison and Scott collect the dirty dishes while Stiles and Lydia go to retrieve the bags that were dropped in the hallway when they came in. There are piles of objects on the glass coffee table when Allison joins them. Cheesy things like leis and party horns of neon colors, plastic sunglasses, fuzzy hats and bracelets. There are more bottles of liquor and then Stiles holds up the last thing that he pulls out of his bag with a cheeky grin.

“That is a lot of weed.”

Scott takes the bag from his fiancé and scrutinizes it. “Not that much. We weren’t sure how many people would want to smoke.”

“It’s been a long time for me,” Allison admits, unable to stop herself from leaning over and breathing in deeply as Stiles bounds up the stairs. It smells green and earthy, and she laughs, shaking her head.

“Lydia!” comes the cry from upstairs. “Where’s that bong?”

“Bong?”

“The one I got you in college, I know you kept it, don’t lie!”

Lydia huffs and excuses herself to help Stiles dig through the back of her closet. Allison eyes the ring on Scott’s finger and pulls his hand closer to her to inspect it. His smile is soft, and there is a swelling in Allison’s breast at that expression. She smiles back.

“I can’t believe you guys are getting married.”

“Neither can I. I still can’t believe he said that he’d go on that first date with me.”

Allison shakes her head. “I don't think it even qualifed as a date. You guys just became a couple from there on out. Took you long enough too.”

“Out the window if you must, but preferably in the back,” Lydia is instructing when they come back down. Stiles is carrying a blown glass bong in his arms, stepping carefully as though he’s afraid he’s going to drop it.

“Of course,” Stiles assures her, setting the bong on the floor next to the coffee table. “From what I remember this thing packs quite a punch.”

“Good,” Scott laughs. “We wouldn’t want anyone sober at this party.”

That turns out to be a problem they needn’t have worried about. People start arriving in a rush, and Lydia points out that although this is her house, it isn’t her party, so Scott and Stiles are constantly on their feet answering the door and catching up with everyone invited. Allison doesn’t know most of them, but Isaac arrives fairly early, and he and Allison end up doing shots of peppermint schnapps with chocolate sauce together.

Allison is nursing a glass of strong brandy that Lydia recommended when he walks in. Derek is accompanied by his sister, whom Allison is genuinely shocked to see; she must have come all the way up from South America just for the bachelor party.

She reaches them at the same time Stiles does, who is holding a tray with some type of double shots on it, and puts them in the Hales’ hands. “No talking until you take it!” he shouts over the music, and then turns to hand Allison one as well.

The four of them tip their heads back and swallow, Derek with an eye roll and Allison with the thought in the back of her head that she might want to start slowing down.

“Don’t even think about it,” Stiles says to her after hugging Cora and shaking hands with Derek, as though he can read her mind. “We’ve got the whole night in front of us.”

Cora disappears with Stiles to greet Scott, leaving Allison with Derek hanging his jacket up. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before saying, "Hey."

Derek looks her over, a minute pause before he returns the greeting. She gives him a small smile and hands him her glass of brandy with a shrug. “You’ve got to catch up, werewolf.”

He lifts his eyebrows at her. “Are you really that far gone?”

Allison considers for a moment. “It seems I can still walk in these heels, so I’m definitely not where I should be. Come on, you’ve got to congratulate the drunk hosts.”

They weave through the crowd, stopping briefly to let Derek exchange a few words with Lydia, who is showing someone how to use the whipped cream to their fullest advantage. He tries to give Allison back her drink several times but she refuses, reminding him that she can get another one.

Scott’s face lights up when he sees Derek, and he brings shots with him when he approaches too.

“They’re like the same person,” Derek grumbles, taking the proffered drink.

Allison laughs. “To Scott and Stiles,” she says, lifting hers high in the air, and the three of them swallow some kind of flavored vodka to the cheers of those closest to them.

Scott nods his head over to the counter where all the drinks are. “Derek, you’re required to come with me. Cora and Isaac are there, and we’ve decided that those of us with faster metabolisms should go drink-for-drink.”

It’s impressive to watch the four of them go at it, lining up drinks in rows so that they can take them one after the other, shooting tequila like it’s nothing. In ten minutes they’ve had more than Allison thinks she could drink in the entire night, but their cheeks are flushed and Derek is smiling at everyone, so it must have worked.

In this time Allison has finished a new glass of brandy and taken two more shots with Stiles, so she’s feeling rather warm herself. Lydia wanders over and whispers into Stiles’ ear, something that he must like because he straightens up and orders everyone out back into the tiny little courtyard.

He follows with the bong, already packed, and there are a few minutes away from the crowd where they pass it around in a circle. The smell wafts through the air, thick and heady. Lydia is on Allison's right, and passes the bong to her once she has breathed in. Allison feels tingly in her fingers and toes, and she coughs hard after her hit, leaning on Derek until the fit passes. She can't even inhale the entire thing, so she shoves the bong into his hands.

Derek steadies her with one hand and breathes in deeply with the other, finishing off her hit, lungs expanding, and motions to her after he passes it on. She quirks her eyebrows at him, and then he’s leaning forward, pressing his open mouth to hers and there is smoke passing between them, she clings to him and breathes in and his lips are soft and there’s more, she can’t hold it all, lets it out in another cough.

When she opens her eyes and looks up, he’s leaning his forehead against hers, hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at him. “It’s been a while.”

The lines in his face disappear and he takes her hand. “Let’s go find somewhere so you can sit for a bit.”

Inside, they wind their way through the press of people on either side, and Allison’s eyes flick this way and that. The lights look so soft against the walls and ceilings, the alcohol is rushing through her blood and it takes hours to get to the couch.

Allison closes her eyes, attention zeroed in on the point where their skin is still touching, and sinks down into the cushions so it feels like they’re wrapping around her. Her limbs are heavy, and when she opens her eyes again, Derek is looking at her.

“How do you feel?”

“Good,” she drawls. “I can feel the music in my bones.”

He laughs at that, squeezing her hand briefly. Allison giggles, can’t seem to stop giggling, and claps a hand over her mouth in an effort to stifle the sound. Scott and Stiles amble on over and lean down towards them with twin grins on their faces.

“Stoned?”

“Cross faded,” Allison corrects. Stiles looks absolutely delighted.

“You had enough, Derek?” Scott asks, ever concerned that everyone is having a good time.

“I’m in a good place.”

“Me too.” Scott then places a pair of sunglasses on Derek’s face. Stiles does the same with Allison, adding a fuzzy bracelet around her wrist. With a pat on her head the couple turns and moseys back off to adorn others with their party gifts.

Allison is fairly sure she has an idiotic grin on her face, but can’t even begin to care, especially not when she notices the photo booth in the corner of the room that she had completely forgotten about. She doesn’t realize she’s doing it until they’re halfway there, but she’s pulling Derek towards it and this is definitely the best idea she has ever had in her life.

He doesn’t even protest when she pushes him in, quickly sliding after him and pulling the curtain shut. Derek is already fiddling with the buttons, glancing back over at her.

“It’s going to take four pictures of us,” he warns, and Allison barely has time to get the sunglasses off of her face before the first flash comes. Derek leans against her and makes a face at the lens.

A few minutes later they’re standing outside the booth again, bent over the pictures that have just been deposited into their hands. Allison is giggling over the pout that Derek made in the second picture, and Derek is busy trying to figure out what Allison has between her teeth in the last one.

“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” he waves her off, squinting at the tiny pictures as though that might help. “I’m going to figure it out.”

“Good call on keeping the sunglasses on,” Allison compliments. “I forgot about the werewolf flare that happens. Really frustrating when you’re trying to get a good picture of someone’s face. I remember you having very pretty eyes.”

She reaches up and pulls the sunglasses off of his face. Even in the low lighting, Allison can see the hazel of his irises. Derek’s gaze is trained on her, not moving even when she raises her hands to cup his cheeks. Her eyes fall to his lips and she’s leaning forward, tall enough with her heels on that she only needs to tilt her head up the slightest bit.

Allison pauses for a split second, can feel his breath on her skin, and thinks _what the hell_.

Even with the buzzing in her head and the fuzziness of her thought process, Allison manages to keep the kiss soft, gentle. A mere press of her lips against his, and Derek doesn’t respond, he just stands there, unmoving against her mouth, arms down at his sides. Allison is just about to pull back, kick herself multiple times and sink into the ground when he gives way, pressing back against her, reaching up to brush the skin at the back of her neck, shift the angle so that he can move with her in a breathless, openmouthed kiss.

Allison breaks away from him then, and Derek immediately drops all contact from her body, apologies already forming on his lips. She completely ignores him in favor of lacing their fingers again and pulling him through the crowd towards the stairs. Despite the tension stringing his muscles tightly, Derek follows without resistance.

“Lydia’s going to kill us if we end up in her room,” Derek says at the top of the stairs. The music is much quieter up here, enough so that she can hear the deep pitch of his voice. It sets off sparks in her veins and dances along with the alcohol in her system.

“That’s what guest rooms are for,” Allison throws back over her shoulder at him, and she catches the clench of his jaw at her words.

They make it to the guest room, somehow, and Allison just barely allows herself to kick off her heels before she’s kissing him again. His stubble is rough under her fingers and she brushes her thumbs over his jaw as she moves her lips against his. Derek’s hands burn even through her dress, scorching a path down her arms and settling at her waist. He’s still quite a bit taller than her, but Allison presses her body against his and he gets the message, walking backwards until they bump into the bed. Derek sits at the edge, and draws her down with him.

Allison hikes her dress up around her hips so she can straddle him, pressing hungrily into his mouth, swiping her tongue against his, sucking on his bottom lip. Derek groans, hands moving south until they reach her thighs where he traces small circles with his fingers. Allison breaks away for a moment, takes in Derek’s red and wet lips, his heavily lidded eyes, and decides she likes him this way.

She all but growls when she dives for his neck, nosing her way down by his pulse point, hands working up under his shirt. He pulls her harder against him, and Allison grinds down on him in response, circling her hips. She bites his collarbone, hard, and watches as the wound heals before her eyes. Derek threads his fingers through her hair, tugging her head back and breathing against her skin, following invisible paths over her neck and jaw with his tongue. Her eyes fall closed and she lets him explore, doing her own charting of his muscles under his shirt, dancing over his hip bones.

One of Derek’s hands is supporting her against her spine, leaning her back so he can nuzzle his way down between her breasts. She whines at the soft touches, at the loss of contact with his skin. Her hands find his hair and she pulls at the roots insistently.

Derek reluctantly lifts his head, and Allison kisses him again, harder this time, messy with clacking teeth. She feels like she’s on fire, like if she doesn’t get his clothes off she might incinerate.

“Off,” Allison whispers against his mouth, hands starting to pull his shirt up. “Off, now.”

Derek obliges, tossing the shirt away and putting his hands back on her body almost before she can register they were gone. She’s dying to explore the newly exposed skin, dipping her head and dragging her teeth lightly over his clavicle to the hollow of his throat, slowly downwards as her fingernails scrape up from his hips.

He bucks into her and a breathless laugh escapes her. Her hands find his shoulders again and she pushes down so that he’s laying back on the bed and she can crawl over him, kissing his stomach tenderly, sucking bruises into the V of his hips as quickly as they disappear.

Derek is moaning at her ministrations. Allison especially likes the small gasps he makes when she times a nip with the pressure of her hips against his. She licks a line back up to his lips, and he takes advantage of the kiss to bring her body flush against his, one hand snaking down to her ass, playing with the fabric he finds there.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he tells her. They work together to unbutton and pull the dress over her head. His hands are huge and they’re everywhere, skimming her bared waist, tapping a pattern against her spine, cradling the back of her head. Allison lets out a particularly wanton moan into his mouth and goes for his pants.

Derek shucks them, hips lifting so they can slide onto the floor, and Allison is quick to settle back against his erection, her wetness burning through the layers. Derek presses his palm against her through her underwear and her breath hitches, distraction enough that it’s a surprise when her bra slips down her shoulders, unclipped.

He doesn’t wait for her to rid herself of the thing, just ducks his head in and presses the flat of his tongue against her nipple. Suddenly, Allison is clinging to him, holding his head against her while he sucks, closing his teeth gently around the pebbled nipple before moving to brush soft kisses against the underside of her breast.

One of Derek’s hands is kneading her lower back, and the other is busy pinching and twisting pinching the nipple that his mouth is neglecting. Allison can feel the molten heat he elicits spreading through the rest of her body, pooling down between her legs. Derek places wet kisses across her chest to her other breast, humming as he takes that nipple into his mouth as well.

Allison rocks her hips gently, tosses her hair over one shoulder so she can watch what he’s doing against her skin. His lips caress, his tongue swipes, and Allison winds tighter and tighter.

Derek moves them then, so Allison is on her back. He locks gazes with her, not breaking eye contact as he bites gently at her ribs, soothing the sting with his tongue afterwards, and nuzzles his way down her stomach. One of his hands is rocking against her through her underwear again, just the slightest roll of his palm so that it catches her clit.

His teeth are tugging at the elastic band of her underwear before she stops him, drawing him back up so she can kiss, so she can touch again.

“Not right now,” she mutters, shimmying underneath him so she can rid herself of the rest of her clothing.

“I can’t—“ he’s panting, unable to stop kissing her long enough to complete a sentence. “I’m too drunk, I won’t be able to control—“

A warmth that has nothing to do with his body against hers blossoms in her heart. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

In one deft movement she rolls them over and gets her hands beneath the waistband of his underwear, pulling them far enough down his legs so that he can kick them off on his own. Allison leans her hands against Derek’s chest and sits so that he is pressed directly against her core. Derek's eyes slam shut when she starts moving up and down against his cock, slicking him.

He throws his head back but keeps his hips firmly against the bed, fisting his hands in the covers.

“It’s okay,” Allison tells him, lifting herself up on her knees and lining him up against her entrance with her hand. “It’s okay.”

She lowers herself slightly, so that the head of his dick sinks into her, and they let out groans simultaneously. Slowly, she lifts herself up and sinks back down again, pushing until their hips are flush, sweat on sweat. He’s so big, stretches her so fully, and the slight burn sends shivers crawling up her spine.

“Fuck, fuck…” Derek is getting out through gritted teeth. Allison takes his hands and slides their slippery palms together, holding him tightly and leaning down to press a light kiss to his lips.

“You feel so good,” she says, and he shifts inside of her, forcing an “oh god” to tumble from her lips.

She then uses her grip on his hands as leverage and starts to move. Slow, at first, savoring every inch of him as he slips back into her, throwing her head back to focus on the feeling.

When she picks up the pace, she looks back down at Derek. His mouth is open, breathing harsh and in time with her movements. Allison begins driving herself down on his cock in earnest, unashamedly moaning and whimpering, grinding herself up against his pubic bone every time he’s fully seated inside of her. She can’t stop watching him disappear into her, thrilling at the sight.

Allison is about to untangle one of her hands and reach down to touch herself when Derek braces his feet on the bed and starts to rock into her from that angle, meeting her own thrusts. The slide of him is delicious, and Allison falls forward onto his chest, pulling one of her hands out of his grip to cling to his shoulder.

He uses his free hand to hold her hips, driving into her harder, dragging across the spot inside that makes her clench, and Allison can feel the familiar roaring in her body, the coil in her stomach winding up. She must be whimpering, tightening around him because Derek is whispering, his mouth right by her ear.

“Fuck, _fuck Allison_ , you’re so tight. God, I want to feel you come. Come for me.”

She makes small movements back against him, and he thrusts harder, up, up, up, until she explodes, the feeling extending to her fingers and toes. Allison cries out, muscles fluttering as he continues moving through her orgasm, long, slow pulls that have her shuddering.

She turns to kiss him again, lazy satisfaction wending its way through her, and he continues his soft movements, licking her lips, drawing patterns against her sweat-soaked skin. Derek brushes some strands of her hair out of the way that were sticking to them, and buries himself inside of her, a harsh gasp of her name as he comes.

They lie there for a moment, sated. Eventually Allison musters up the energy to roll off of him, onto her side. She has vague thoughts of maybe saying something before her eyes flutter shut and she falls asleep.

;;

Allison wakes up because there is some very bright light hitting her through her eyelids, and her brain is protesting about it loudly.

She groans and scrubs at her eyes, sitting up and squinting at the offending window.

Derek is there, tugging the curtains back from the panes of glass. He turns at her moan of protest, stands for a moment before coming to sit next to her over the covers. She blinks at him, and thinks she might have seen a smile, but when she opens her eyes again it’s gone. He has his pants from last night on, but his torso is bare, and she drags her gaze down over him quickly before meeting his eyes once more.

“How are you feeling?”

Allison laughs hollowly. “Like my head might split open at any second.”

Derek nods his head down at his hands, and Allison notices for the first time that he’s holding something. “I thought you might. That’s why I brought you these.”

He hands her the glass of water and aspirin. She gulps them down gratefully and cradles the water in her hand, despite the urge to chug it. Derek is still looking at her, completely unruffled, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“You’re completely fine, aren’t you?”

He grins. “One of the perks of a werewolf metabolism. I’ve never had a hangover.”

“I hate you,” Allison mutters.

He laughs, full-bodied and loose. The sound goes right though her in soft waves, lapping at her toes. It feels weird, foreign, but it’s shockingly comfortable. Allison settles back on her pillows and sips at the water again.

Almost without warning Derek leans down and kisses her. It’s simple, chaste, just a brush of his lips against hers, but her eyes flutter shut anyway and she clutches the glass between her hands. When he pulls back he brushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Sorry,” he whispers, eyes searching hers.

Allison licks her lips, gazes back at him. She leans so that their foreheads are pressing together and she can feel his exhales soft across her cheeks. “Don’t be sorry. It was stupid, and I had fun.”

“I can’t assume anything; you were very drunk last night, very high, and we ended up—“

Allison shuts him up by kissing him again, less gently this time. She fumbles around with the glass, sets it on the bedside table. He tastes clean, like he has just brushed his teeth, and Allison is horribly aware of her morning breath, knotted hair, state of complete undress. Derek cups the back of her head gently, thumb smoothing over her spine.

She has better control this morning, sober, and she goes to dive in for more but her head throbs and she has to pull back. She feels guilty, frustrated with her weak human body, and says, “I’m definitely too hungover for any kind of strenuous activity.”

Derek huffs a quiet chuckle, draws his fingers around the side of her neck and down to her collarbone. “That’s fine. You don’t have to do anything.”

She is about to protest about fairness, but his lips are on hers and she melts. Derek mouths down her chin, up to her ear and traces the shell with his nose. His hands play on the skin of her shoulders, the sharp bones under her skin. He presses soft kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids. One more against her mouth before moving downward.

Derek’s short nails scrape lines of flame into her skin. Allison breathes deeply and sinks down further on the bed. He licks a wet stripe between her breasts and then blows cold air over it, raising goose bumps on her skin.

He moves the covers off of her, exposing her body to the air. Allison instinctively draws her legs together, but her hands go to Derek’s hair, pressing him closer. He nuzzles her left breast, planting warm, damp kisses in a circle around her nipple. She strains toward him, but he deliberately avoids taking it into his mouth, nipping to the other breast.

Allison sighs, massaging his scalp with her nails. Derek spreads her legs and shifts so that he is lying between them, up on his elbows. He finally takes her nipple into his mouth, flicking back and forth with his tongue until it hardens into a peak. His teeth close around it and he tugs, and Allison’s back arches off the bed. He worries it almost to the point of overstimulation, using a hand to knead and tease the other nipple.

Derek’s hands flit downwards; they dance over every rib, rediscover the curve of her waist, cradle her hips. Everything feels heightened—the stubble leaving light marks on her skin, each touch and movement burned into memory. Allison feels her head being tilted downwards by a strong hand, and Derek kisses her again. She doesn’t notice his hand moving even further until he brushes against the wetness between her thighs and breaks from the kiss with a groan, his head dropping down to her shoulder.

“Allison… you smell so…”

She blushes, licks her kiss-swollen lips and bunches her hands in the already rumpled sheets. Allison can feel Derek’s smile against her skin, now kneeling between her legs. He gently moves her thighs farther apart, kissing the inside of one near her knee. She looks down her body at him with half-lidded eyes; it’s quite a sight. Over her chest, down her stomach, to the shirtless man between her legs, kissing her thighs with a sort of reverence.

Derek moves to lie on his stomach, placing her legs over his shoulders. She bites her lip when she feels his breath over her hot core, and practically whimpers when he licks a feather-light stripe between her folds up to her clit.

He moans and the sound shoots to the building heat in her stomach. Derek presses her hips into the bed with one forearm, keeping her still so that he can begin in earnest. He barely uses any of his strength, however, and Allison manages to lift her hips up to his mouth. Derek growls, and licks at her again.

She knows how wet she is, can smell herself from here, so to a werewolf is must be overwhelming. He moves his lips in the same way he would kiss her, licking into her with pressure. He practically fucks her with his tongue, and her hips rock into his mouth in their own rhythm. Allison keens when he moves up to her clit, circling with his tongue before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Derek keeps making noises, as though she is the best thing he’s ever tasted, and just the thought of how much he is enjoying this makes her legs tremble.

When the flat of his tongue swipes over her clit, he adds a finger, pressing into her, and Allison feels that she’s close, mouth open, panting. He pulls back, kissing her thighs again, moving his finger slowly, slowly, and Allison grinds down on him, feeling the spiral of release reaching the tipping point again.

He bites her thigh, right by her hip, and adds another finger, curling them upwards so that he can drag them over the spot that makes her grip the sheets harder. She looks down at him and he stares back up at her, mouth glistening. Derek doesn’t break eye contact when he lowers back down to her clit and sucks and her orgasm is upon her so unexpectedly she can’t muffle the shout that she emits.

Derek is watching her when she comes back down, resting his weight up on one side of her body, the other hand still working her over slowly. Allison is boneless, but when Derek brings his fingers up and licks them clean she can see her release on his chin and it sends sparks through her body.

“Wow,” Allison closes her eyes for a brief moment. “Wow.”

Before either of them can say anything else there is a banging on the closed door, and they leap to make themselves presentable. No one comes inside, but Lydia’s voice does come through to say, “Allison! Your flight leaves in an hour and a half! I called you a cab, but you needed to be ready yesterday.”

“Shit!” Allison gathers up her clothes, not bothering to put any of them on, and looks back at Derek over her shoulder. She can’t read him, not without time and closer scrutiny, so she moves to the door and says, “I’ll see you, then?”

He nods, sitting on the bed, and Allison bolts from the room.

She allows herself a little time to lay out the beautiful dress and shoes Lydia lent her in her room; it was where she had dropped her overnight bag anyway. She throws on new clothes, runs a brush through her hair and takes the stairs two at a time.

All the old friends from high school apparently stayed overnight. The werewolves look chipper, eating breakfast in the kitchen, but Stiles has definitely seen better mornings. Allison gives Lydia a hug, thanks her for hosting the party and says, “I’m sorry I can’t stay to help you clean up.”

There’s a knowing twinkle in Lydia’s eye when she responds, “I’ll make Derek do the work.”

Allison gives both Scott and Stiles quick kisses on the cheek with promises of having more time when she comes out for the wedding, and runs out the door to the waiting taxi on the street.

;;

Ever since becoming a guide, Allison has relished the chance to disappear into the wilderness, to clear her head and get lost in the mountains, under the stars. Despite the tiredness in her bones, she is alert and on time to meet the people she’ll be hiking with.

Her group is a family of seven, three adults and four children, the youngest eight years old. Each have their own backpacks, and she leads them on a climb through the park, lasting five days. She’s impressed with the kids; they keep up with the rest, and only complain of soreness at night, after setting up camp.

It’s a nice feeling, having them out here with her. The parents are good company, and she enjoys answering their questions about animal and plant life. They have a close encounter with a grizzly bear while eating wild huckleberries in the middle of their day hike; he shares their berry patch for a while, not two hundred yards away, before catching their scent and moving off to find a more secluded spot.

By the end of the trip Allison is dirty, smelly, her muscles have the pleasant burn in them that means she exercised well, and she feels much better about everything. Without even bothering to shower, she hops into her car and makes the trip up to Beacon Hills. When she reaches her dad’s house, she locks her car and reads the note taped to the front door.

_Out to dinner. Leftovers in the fridge. See you later tonight._

Allison peels the tape off the door and crumples the note, shoving it into her pocket. Once she is inside, she spends more time than she should debating if she wants to eat or shower first, but she’s positively ripe, and hot, running water is very seductive.

The house welcomes her back with open arms, like it hasn’t been years since she has lived here. It’s a comfort, to come back to something so achingly familiar after the beautiful expanse of wilderness, a nice transition. Allison smiles and runs her hand along the bannister as she trudges up the stairs with her bag. Her mind is pleasantly devoid of thought, and she lets her body lead her to the bathroom.

Her father comes home while she is digging into some turkey she found in the fridge, wet hair dripping down her back, curled up with her legs under her at the table. Chris joins her after pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“How was the trip?”

“Good,” Allison responds around a mouthful of meat. “The kids were a lot better than I expected them to be. They fell in love with the huckleberries, and the little one ate so much that she got a stomach ache.”

Chris smiles. “I’m glad that you had a good backpacking trip, but I was asking about the one out to Boston.”

“Oh.” Allison takes a long sip of water and avoids his eyes.

She can feel his stare burning a hole in the side of her head, and gives in, looking back at him. Chris is watching her with narrowed eyes, and Allison remembers why she has given up on lying and deflections. He sees right through her.

“What happened?” She doesn’t answer. “Was it bad? Allison.”

She sighs, eating another forkful of turkey. “No. It was actually really good. Surprisingly good.”

Draining the last of his coffee, Chris walks around the table and presses a soft kiss to her still wet hair. “Good. I know you were really worried about it.”

Allison laughs. “Was it that obvious?”

“The daily calls for a week beforehand gave you away.”

He reminds her that her emergency cache of weapons is still in her closet where she left them, and she needs to clean them before bed. Allison rolls her eyes, yes dad, of course dad, and he heads upstairs.

The exhaustion of the day finally catches up with her, and she practically falls into bed after doing some maintenance on her guns. The pillows are soft, still smell like home, and she’s asleep as soon as she wriggles under the covers.

When she wakes up, she finally checks her phone. There are several missed calls from Lydia, some photo messages from Stiles, pictures of her that she does not remember posing for, and a text from Scott thanking her for flying out to see them for the bachelor party.

Nothing from Derek.

Allison works very hard not to try and assess how that makes her feel.

Her father is already gone, off to work, so she runs some errands, refilling his fridge with food that isn’t moldy or past its expiration date, picking up some things that she could use to make dinner tonight. She then checks her email, shoots some texts out to Lydia, Scott and Stiles, clicks through the television channels and doesn’t settle on any of them.

A blanket of irritation has lowered itself into her head now that the acute comfort of being in her old house has worn off, and she can’t shake the buzz it causes. Beacon Hills has calmed down since most of the werewolves have vacated, but everywhere she went today she remembered that this was where that demon tried choking her, and that was where her arm was nearly pulled off her body by a vicious werewolf.

And everywhere—everywhere—is where Derek Hale was by her side, fighting and getting hurt and saving her and letting her save him.

Allison’s feet end up marching her back out to her car. What she wouldn’t give to be back out in the mountains under the stars right now, mercifully small and insignificant. Thankfully, Beacon Hills has a very nice, very big forest nestled up next to it, and there are several paths that she can walk, even at night.

She brings her bow, just in case.

It isn’t until she’s driving down the street that she realizes where her absent mind has taken her. She idles in front of the apartment for a few minutes, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel.

_This isn’t weird. I’m not going to let this be weird._

She leaves the bow and arrows in the car, although part of her still bristles at the idea of entering his home without weapons; his was the only home that ever seemed to have danger lurking in it. It’s been years since the wolves scattered, and the evil with them, but Beacon Hills tends to have her on edge, grinding her teeth.

He answers immediately after she knocks, and Allison suddenly remembers the heightened senses that he has. Not letting it be weird was not off to a very good start, if he could hear her lingering in front of his apartment for minutes before working up the nerve to get out of the car and approach.

Derek says nothing about it, however, simply steps aside so she can enter. Allison holds her head high as she crosses the threshold, but the front door closing behind her sounds very final.

She stands awkwardly in the hall, refusing to look away when Derek meets her eyes. He tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and gives her that look that makes her feel like he can see right through her, right down to the marrow in her bones. Maybe it’s a wolf thing.

Allison shifts her bag on her shoulder, fiddling with the strap, and says, “Sorry I showed up out of the blue.”

“I didn’t know you were in Beacon Hills.”

“I came down to see my dad, since I’ve been in the area. I went backpacking up in Yosemite with a group.”

Derek blinks, then smiles, but the wariness does not leave his features. “The national park. I’ve gone running up there. It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” Allison feels herself frown, body tensing, and the words are sharp, precise, when they fall from her lips. “Why didn’t you call?”

He looks caught off guard by the question, more so than when he found her on his doorstep. Allison stands straighter, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

He seems uncertain, hesitance evident in the way he hovers in the hall, looking for all the world like he is the guest in the house. Allison feels a slight flush of victory, until he continues.

“Did you?”

“I—“ she falters. Her eyes trace the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the muscles cording in his arms. She swallows and her eyes flick back up to his. He hasn’t moved, just considers her silently, and waits for her answer.

“I don’t know.”

Derek shifts, and the stillness dissipates, air moving in the room again, quiet tension broken into something much more familiar, something that Allison remembers from back in high school.

“I thought so.” Derek moves past her, walking into the kitchen and pulling down mugs from the cabinet. He goes about making instant coffee, back turned to her, and Allison sinks down into a chair at the kitchen table in slow motion, watching him.

“Cream, sugar?” he asks without looking at her. He’s hunched over, staring into the fridge and Allison hears herself croak out a negative response from far away.

Derek puts some sugar in his own mug, and is filling them both to the brim when she asks, “What do you mean, you thought so?”

He shrugs, bringing the mugs over to her. “It’s who you are.”

A flash of anger breaks through her confusion. “It’s not who I am.”

Derek meets her eyes again, hard as flint, and says with a sick smile, “It is with me.” He sets her coffee in front of her with a dull thud.

Allison makes no move to take it. Derek sits across from her, holding the mug in both of his hands, and takes a small sip from it, watching her. She feels nails biting into the skin of her palms, and quickly releases them before she can draw blood. The silence between them is oppressive, pressure pushing down on her until she can feel her breathing beginning to quicken.

“I’ve proved myself to you already. I don’t have to do it again. I didn’t have to do it the first time.”

Derek frowns. “I’m not asking you for anything, Allison. Your pattern holds steady; back when we were constantly fighting for our lives, did you want to be a friend or enemy to me?”

“It had nothing to do with you. I chose Scott.”

He nods. “The option that let you have your indecision. It worked, it was fine. Until Scott and I didn’t agree anymore, and you came sneaking around the house in the middle of the night to make plans because he wanted to find the peaceful decision.”

“I wasn’t—“

Derek interrupts her. “And then you would back up Scott and the others when we were all together, talking about it. Like you weren’t out hunting with me every night in the woods.”

Allison can feel her body starting to itch with anger. She manages keeps her voice steady and low when she answers. “You said you understood.”

“I did. I still do. I know how it feels to not know which path you want to take. So when you came to me the night before you left for college and kissed me, I didn’t ask for anything either. We didn’t see each other for years, not until the bachelor party a week ago, and even then I was sure you weren’t going to stay.”

Allison’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Just like I’m _sure_ you’re going to stay now.” His voice drips with sarcasm, and the words hit her like a physical smack across the face. Derek stands up, bringing his now empty cup over to the dishwasher.

_“Hey!”_

She follows him, shoving the chair back in the process, and storms over to Derek. He spins around to find her in his personal space, staring up at him. She can feel the anger sizzling under his skin, a perfect match for hers.

“You do not get to tell me this years after the fact. You do not get to pretend like you haven’t done the exact same thing to me in the past. And you do _not_ get to play the _victim_! I don’t owe you _anything_!”

Derek bends so that their faces are mere inches apart, snarling, “I never _asked_ you for anything.”

Allison’s mouth crashes to his with bruising force, hands scrabbling for a purchase on his shoulders. Derek growls into her mouth, tongue sliding across hers, teeth biting into her lip. She presses their bodies together, chest to chest, hips to hips.

He has his arms around her waist, holding her there, and scrapes his scruff across her cheek as he drags teeth down her neck, settling on the sensitive skin over her pulse point. One of Allison’s hands is wrapped around the back of his neck, the other gripping his shoulder. Heat waves pulse outwards, crashing over her stomach, her head, down between her legs.

She scratches him, running the hand on his neck up through his hair and back down again, hoping she leaves red marks even though she knows they’ll disappear as soon as she makes them. Derek lifts his head from where he has made a mark of his own on her neck and drags the hem of her shirt upwards. Allison helps him take it off, and then searches for his lips again, sloppy and wet. He crushes her to him, one hand wrapping around her jaw, holding her head in place while he kisses her. She growls into his mouth, pulling at the fabric of his shirt. Derek ignores her, reaching down with the hand that was at her waist to rub her through her jeans.

Allison lets out a moan, shifting her hips down on his fingers, searching for friction. He pulls his hand away quickly, shucking his shirt with ease. Allison rubs her chest against his, feeling the heat of his skin on her breasts through her bra. She is up on her toes, arms wrapped around him, biting down hard on the newly exposed skin in front of her.

Derek grunts in surprise, nibbling at her earlobe and causing her to shudder. She sinks her teeth into his flesh harder, enough to draw blood and watch the wound close before her eyes. Her nails are too short to do the same, but she runs them down his muscles anyway, zoning in on the way they jump under her touch.

The blood is roaring in her ears, and she feels like she is drowning. Derek’s eyes glow an electric blue, and when they kiss again there is the barest hint of fang pricking the inside of her lips. He drops to his knees in front of her, pulling her pants and underwear down her legs, and then stands up again, mouthing at her breasts. Allison stumbles as she kicks out of the clothes tangled around her ankles. Derek holds her upright, kissing her again when she has both feet planted on the ground.

He backs her up as they kiss, hands all over her, her ass, her hips, back up her spine to her arms. He shoves her bra straps down her arms and takes her breasts into his palms, roughly thumbing over her nipples. She leaves wet kisses down his collarbone, across his chest, and fumbles with the button on his jeans.

Derek pushes her again, and she bumps into the kitchen table. He spins her around, and she bends over it, bracing herself on her hands. Allison can hear him wrestling with his pants, but she is distracted when she feels his fingers on the sensitive skin between her legs.

He slips two into her, and she’s already wet enough that he slides easily, and she groans as he pumps them in and out of her. Allison’s fingers curl against the wood of the table, hair hanging down around her face, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on the sensations. Derek’s breath is hot on her lower back, and then his cock is hard and silky against her inner thigh.

Allison sucks in a breath, the whimper at the removal of his fingers cut off when he rubs the head of his cock against her clit. She stiffens and spreads her legs wide, glancing over her shoulder at him.

He is radiating heat, electricity practically crackling around his body, and when he meets her eyes Allison remembers why she was angry—because there it is again, that sadness behind the rage, and she doesn’t want to see that, so she shoves her hips back at him, shivering when he slides along her wet folds. Derek groans and lines himself up with her, sinking in slowly but without pause.

They let out small noises together, and Allison needs immediate movement, needs to feel him deeper. She rotates her hips back against him, encouraging him to move, but Derek first leans down and presses his front to her back, so that his head is right over her shoulder. He plants his hands on the table outside of hers and grinds against her for a moment.

She can’t look back at him, not when he is so close and she can see every line in his face, so she presses herself down against the tabletop and hisses, “Come on, fuck me.”

Derek pulls back and slams his hips into hers. She slides against the table, feeling the woodwork against her breasts, and all the breath is knocked out of her lungs when he thrusts again, keeping a steady pace of fast, hard movements. Allison bites her bottom lip and does her best to push back against him, rolling her hips with the movement even if it means that the edge of the table bites into her.

His forehead is against her shoulder blade, pants bursting on her skin and spreading down her back, causing her to shiver and moan. She puts all of her weight into her forearms and thrusts back on him viciously, their skin slapping against each other, leaving a slight stinging behind. Allison vaguely registers the shatter of her coffee mug when the rocking of the table shakes it to the ground.

Derek grunts and uses one hand to pull her up onto her toes, and the new angle has Allison gasping out sounds every time he moves. His pace is furious, sweat building on his body and mingling with her own where they touch. Her nipples are rubbed raw against the table, but tingles are running up and down her spine, and she can feel the flush spreading down her chest.

Allison sucks in a deep breath and manages to grit out between clenched teeth, “Harder, damn it, _fuck me_.”

When he moans there is a hint of the wolf behind it, Allison recognizes that sound, and then he thrusts hard enough to make her cry out in pain, the feeling shooting past her hazy pleasure-filled mind.

Derek stills immediately, and the hand that was holding her hips still against him is now cradling them, fingers running incredibly light touches over where the bone slammed into the edge of the table.

Allison is wound up, and she moves against him, looking at him through the curtain of her hair. He’s staring at her, eyes hazel once more, fangs having retreated, and no, she doesn’t want this either.

“Come on, fuck me Derek.”

“No.”

She freezes. There is heat and want and need pulsing in her stomach, where he is buried inside of her, and she just wants to have sex and walk out of here, she wants him to fuck her and then kick her out so she can be furious and now she really wants to come, damn it.

“Derek…” she moans, and even though she can see the set line of his jaw, the way his hold on her hips tightens slightly at the sound, he doesn’t start moving again.

Derek leans back down across her back, sliding the hand on the table up and covering hers with it. He presses a kiss to her shoulder, no teeth, no open-mouthed wet heat, just soft lips on her feverish skin. He moves again, a roll of his hips, almost lazy, and Allison drops her head to the side, against the table, screwing her eyes shut.

“Slow,” Derek murmurs into her ear, letting go of her hips and using that hand to brush her hair away from her face.

With every languid thrust, he places another kiss on her back, over each of her vertebra and across her shoulders. Allison can feel the coil drawing even tighter in her stomach, and she blinks her eyes open, heart rate impossibly fast even while they move together in slow motion.

He ducks his head in and kisses her, soft and gentle, and Allison can’t help but open her mouth to him, search for his taste. He shifts his hips, and suddenly his cock is dragging across the spot within her that causes her to keen, quiet and pitched. She can feel Derek’s smile against her mouth, and he moves again, keeping the angle.

Allison’s lips drop from his soon after, unable to keep the kiss going when he’s moving exactly right. Derek leans up slightly, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades, panting. She can feel his nose nudging her, and the sweetness of the gesture pulls a low groan from her.

The burn in her body is spreading now, and she can feel herself beginning to flutter around him as he moves. She tries to reach down so she can rub at her clit, but he stops her, placing her hand back on the table and balancing carefully so that he can do it instead.

Derek skims down her ribcage, over her waist and taps a light rhythm out on her thigh before moving his fingers between her legs. He circles her clit slowly, timing the harder pressure with the sharp upward thrust, and she feels like she might be crumbling, her edges falling to pieces around her. Allison’s breath shudders out, and Derek kisses her hair, just above her ear.

Her orgasm rolls up her spine, toes curling against the tile floor, clenching and unclenching around him. Derek bites down where her shoulder meets her neck, gently, and follows her over the edge, still thrusting against her lightly, to draw out her release.

Allison floats back down into her body what must be a few minutes later, because Derek is there, putting all his weight on one of his forearms and running his fingers through her tangled hair. She smiles at him, shakily, and he moves off of her, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them back up.

Allison turns around, unabashedly naked, and looks him over. There is a sheen of drying sweat on his chest, and he looks almost as light as she feels. Allison is unsure, at a loss for what to say, and has no idea what Derek is going to do. She’s unprepared for him to drop to his knees in front of her and press a kiss to the bruises already forming on the jut of her hipbones.

“I’m sorry,” he says against her skin. Allison catches his hands and draws him up so he is standing once more.

“I’m sorry too.”

Derek shakes his head. “You were right; you don’t owe me anything. You never did.”

She smiles, cocking her head to the side. “No, I don’t. But I can give freely.”

His smile, even when hesitant, is like the sun. “After you get dressed, do you want to stay for dinner?”

;;

Sixteen days later they arrive at the wedding holding hands, fingers intertwined. Lydia clearly couldn’t keep her mouth shut about it, so the others give them huge hugs on sight, without questioning their proximity. Allison almost regrets telling her. Almost.

At the reception, Stiles makes his way over to them and apologizes for the seating arrangements, telling them that they didn’t have time to rearrange everyone by the time he found out about their relationship. With a laugh, Allison assures him it’s fine, and tugs Derek away before he can accuse Stiles of doing it on purpose.

Later, when everyone is dancing and Allison has returned to her seat so she can give her feet a break, Derek slides up behind her, massaging the muscles of her shoulders lightly. She sighs and leans back into him, craning her head around so she can look up at him.

He’s smiling, and Allison hasn’t been with him long at all, but she knows exactly what that smile means.

They may or may not sneak off to the bathroom together, and Allison may or may not give Derek a blowjob against the door.


End file.
